


One Cop

by Uncommonbisisst



Category: Groundhog Day - Minchin/Rubin, Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-loop Phil, i don't know why i did this but i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:43:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uncommonbisisst/pseuds/Uncommonbisisst
Summary: But now, after those horrible, terrible hours, Phil finds himself in a police station, seated on a plastic chair being interviewed by a cop.A cop who just so happens to look a lot like him.Or, the crossover fic no one in either fandoms ever asked for





	One Cop

New York City was hell on earth.

Phil had heard all about New York, and with only three days left on his winter leave, he was on his way. 

He was supposed to spend the rest of his vacation week in a five-star hotel, staying in a room complete with a balcony.

But then his credit card was declined, and the lady at the desk, with a tiring smile plastered on her face, _kindly_ directed him to walk to the nearest hotel that accepted cash. She was definitely glad to send him away, and he didn’t care.

The _nearest_ hotel was several blocks away, huddled between a closed down club and a dark, abandoned theater.  Very easy to miss, especially for someone already exhausted from walking.

 _Oh God, the walking_ . He had to trudge his feet through the white snow, and he's lost count on how many times he'd almost slip on the sidewalk.

Several times he got lost, because that avenue was actually to the left and not down, and he’s pretty sure he’s circled around the entire district trying to get back to Times Square. Finally, some guy holding a sign promoting bus tours, with what he’s certain is mocking pity in his lips, tells him that he _is_ in Times Square. When the guy’s turned around to go and pester another bystander, Phil looks up to finally see the New Year ball on the tall building right in front of him. 

In the cigarette-scented room, Phil had the worst sleep of his life. When he woke up, his feet were still sore and red, and his eyes were as heavy as they were moments before his head hit the pillow. 

If he wanted to spend Christmas out of state next year, it will definitely not be in New York again.

But, after those horrible, terrible hours, Phil finds himself in a police station, seated on a plastic chair being interviewed by a cop. 

A cop who just so happens to look _a lot_ like him.

At first, Phil thought he was hallucinating. After all, he did have a gun pointed at him for five heart-stopping seconds before the person at the other end ran and blended with the crowd, before the cop arrived with the other authorities and offered him a ride to the station. But he was still certainly sane, and while this man had his hair combed back, they shared the exact same face.

What the fuck.

His fingers dig into the cup of water given to him, and he pops a pill of Xanax into his mouth before downing the rest of the liquid. He should've taken a few more, but by irony the bottle had ran out, right after a moment where he needed them the most. As if this "vacation" couldn't get any worse.

"What's your name?" is the first thing not-Phil asks.

"Phil Connors," 

"Did you see what the man running away looked like? His eyes, hair?" 

He slightly leans back into the chair and steals a glance at the nameplate on Not-Phil's table.  **Sgt. Mike Dodds** was engraved in bronze. Not-Phil- Fine, Dodds looks at him intently, the tip of his pen hovering over the surface of a notepad's new leaf.

"I could've if I wasn't too busy looking at the  _gun_ pointed at my face,"

Phil is met with a sharp look, and he wonders whether or not Dodds has noticed how much they look like each other; but he couldn't tell through that always-serious face.

He lets out an exasperated sigh, "Okay, fine, I didn't see his face. But he's white and I think his hair was-" He closes his eyes, trying to recall anything other than the weapon aimed dead center between his eyes, and he finds the answer, "Black, it was black."

Dodds asks again, "Did he say anything to you?"

"No, he just pointed the gun at me then ran," Phil is starting to get impatient, and he glances at his watch, both hands are perfectly pointing upward at the number 12 with a colorful cartoon racoon (a childhood character long forgotten) smiling in between the numbers. It was an embarassment. And, unfortunately, this embarassment was the only working watch in his drawer before he left.

 "And, before he was there, did you notice anything strange?"

"Well, I heard screaming," His fingers have begun tapping a rhythm on his knee, "But I thought it was that homeless lady," He remembers going to his supposed-to-be hotel and walking past this dirty-clothed woman, who was rattling in gibberish and singing the words to a church hymn he has never heard of before. 

Dodds says a simple "okay" before turning to his computer. 

"Look, do I need to testify or something?"  It's Phil's turn to ask, "My flight back to Pittsburgh is in twelve hours and I have a job to do, taxes to pay,"

"We don't know," Dodds glances at him, turning away from the bright light emanating out of the computer sceen, "but if you get called, we'll contact you." 

 _If._ Hopefully, it doesn't happen, because Phil's not up to walking up to his boss one day and telling him,  _"Hey, so someone pointed a gun at me while I was in New York and now the cops want me back there. Could you please sign this form?"_ He doesn't care what else this guy did, he just wants to get back to Pittsburgh. 

From the other end of the room, a printer beeps, and Dodds excuses himself before standing up and walking over to the machine. The papers come out clean and neat when he receives them.

He's about to turn and go back to his seat when Sonny Carisi arrives from the Lieutenant's office, "Hey, Sarge,"

"Carisi," Mike says, not taking his eyes off the papers as he stacks them on the small table, "how's the vic?" 

"She's in the hospital with Rollins," Carisi leans against the wall, "and she knows who the perp is- one of her classmates,"

Dodds looks up, "Let me guess, he has white skin and black hair," When the detective gives him a look, he adds, "it matches the description from the witness he pointed his gun at," 

"Huh," Sonny scans the room and takes a good look at said witness, and he jokes, "this guy's not your long-lost twin brother, is he?" 

That earns a small smile on Mike's lips, "No," 

What had just happened was the coincidence of all coincidences, it's not every day that you meet someone who looks just like you and isn't your twin. The idea itself seemed impossible and out of this world, but here they were. He can tell by Carisi's face that the detective was going to run around and tell the entire precinct about this day.

He doesn't mind that. Besides it doesn't hurt to join in the camaraderie the rest of the squad had shared over the years. 

Dodds returns to his desk, where Phil was still waiting. Impatience was plain on the man's face (which was... his own), so he wasted no time handing him the papers and a pen. Phil signs his name three times, when he gives the items back, he says, "Could I go now?" 

"You can,"  _Finally._

Phil stands up from the chair and says a quick, "Thanks, officer." before pushing through the doorway. Once he entered an elevator, he pulled out his phone to search for the nearest bars while waiting. 

He's going to need a drink after this.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is queued in my tumblr for day 2 of the GHD Fanweek, but I don't have time to publish this first tomorrow.  
> I'm sorry if any of the characters seemed out of character, I'm rushing because of school and I'm planning to write another thing for the amazing fanweek. Groundhog Day is amazing and beautiful, and for those who can, please go and see it, and/or spread the word.  
> Constructive Criticism is appreciated.


End file.
